


The Makers of Manners - A Possible Pearl Future Fic

by Bead



Series: Pearl of the Evening [4]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Established Relationship, Everybody Lives, Female Bilbo, Hobbit Culture, Multi, Romance, Siblings, fem!Bilbo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-04
Updated: 2013-11-04
Packaged: 2017-12-31 10:55:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1030858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bead/pseuds/Bead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aderynrrowntree posted <a href="http://bead-bead.tumblr.com/post/65963164058/aderynrrowntree-bead-bead-steampagan#notes">this</a> gorgeous dress and mentioned that it looked like a Billa dress.  My brain went DING. </p><p>Billa decides she'd like something a little different to wear for the spring feast, a little project to work on over the winter.  It, for a lack of a better term, snowballs. </p><p>Could be considered a possible future fic for Pearl the Rewrite, I ain't promising, but it could happen.  :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Something Green

**Author's Note:**

> In celebration of 10K hits of Pearl, and 150 tumblr followers. Thanks, y'all.
> 
> Missrosequween drew a lovely companion picture to this story which can be found [here](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/375980268869715499/). Please leave her some love there or on her original comment at the end of the fic....

_O Kate, nice customs curtsy to great kings. Dear Kate, you and I cannot be confined within the weak list of a country’s fashion. We are the makers of manners, Kate…._  
-Henry V, Act 5, Scene 2

~~~~~

Dori pats his braids and settles his plum velvet surcoat as he hurries to the queen’s rooms. Billa has invited him and Ori for tea and he’s delighted and _terribly_ curious. Normally he sees her when the company gathers for one of its' informal dinners, or feast times. 

Things have been so busy, between the weaver’s guild and this nice little tea shop he’s playing with as a treat for himself, it’s been a long time since they’ve had a proper visit, and frankly, he’s been a wee bit worried about her. Last time he saw her, she looked a bit wan. 

She’s cheerful enough when she greets him, and Dori smiles indulgently at his little brother when he blushes at the kiss Billa gives him on the cheek. Such a sweet lad. They chat pleasantly through the meal, excellent cakes that Billa bullied the kitchen into letting her make herself, and scones and Ori’s favorite ham and cheese and mustard sandwiches, toasted, and Dori’s favorite almond tarts. 

“My dears,” Billa says finally, that wan look flitting briefly across her face. “I need something green. Something with flowers. Something simple.” 

They blink at her. She sighs. 

“I do love dwarrow fashion for the most part, the tunics and trousers are so very comfortable, as are the dresses, but…..I keep thinking of the spring feast and I’ve gone down to the guild and everything’s so lovely, but dark. But I would like something a little bit more like I’d wear at home, brighter colors, perhaps even more formal than I’d wear there, and of course of the proper length to follow dwarrow customs. And I’d like the adornments to be in the fabric, and to be flowers.” 

“Well, I’d be happy to help, my dear Billa,” Dori replies, trying not to wince at leaving out her proper title, but she _insisted_. “Please, tell me more.” 

“I’m not the best artist in the world, but I did pull out a few books from the library.” She darts a smile at Ori. “And I thought maybe we could - if it’s not too much trouble or offence to your skills - put our heads together and see what’s possible?” 

“Would there be fabric such as you would like back in the Shire?” 

Billa’s eyes gleam, and she shows that charming dimple when she smiles. “We can write for a sample or two if you wish, but why would I send for a fabric when the finest weavers are in Erebor? And truly, I know they couldn’t make anything as fine. The weaver’s and tailor’s guilds have spoiled me so completely.”

She grins at Dori’s answering smile. “Oh, my old cottons and linens and moleskins and corduroy are all well and good, but I must admit to feeling absolutely luxurious in silks and velvets, and the Erebor woolens and that lovely stuff spun from goat hair are the softest things I’ve ever touched. That experimental shawl you gave me, Dori….I’ve looked forward to cooler weather to wear it again.” 

Dori pats her hand, touched at her loyalty. He remembers clearly how she missed her beloved Shire and all the comforts and luxuries in it on the journey. “We’ll say a good bit of that, my queen, when we approach the guild with a new design,” he said, giving her a wink. 

“Billa,” she reminds him, winking back. 

“What can I do, Mistress Billa?” Ori asked. He can't bear not giving her some sort if honorific. Dori completely understands. 

“Just Billa, dear. Help me find illustrations of flowers that might work? And as I said,” her voice drops into a shy tone. “I thought we might design something together? I will absolutely need your help drawing something that will look anywhere approaching normal to show the sort of flowers and dress I’d like. And I’ll be absolutely honest. Last winter seemed to drag on so long, and I missed having green things around me. That’s a bit better, now, but...I should like a project, something to look forward in addition to my knitting lessons. Something green.” 

Ori beams at her. “Of course I’ll help. I just came across a lot of botany books in the back corners of the fourth level.” He drops into a whisper. “Some of them Elven.” 

“Ooh, I’ll never tell.” She looks at the two of them, a pleased, pink blush on her cheeks. “I’ve never come out and _asked_ for something like this, but...” 

Dori remembered all the times it nearly hurt to wear rough woolens, back in the lean days, and not because they itched. Because it made him so homesick he could hardly breathe. He understood the longing to have familiar things, familiar clothes, and was so proud of her at matching that longing with her new homeland, it made his eyes sting a little bit. This was as close to complaining as he’d ever heard her do, since the dragon, since she married and moved away from her green fields and warm, cozy smial. She’d embraced them so wholly...such a generous heart. 

“I, we, understand the need to have something familiar around you, and we both love projects and giving gifts, dear queen, I think we’ll have a fine time together.” 

“One more thing; may we keep it a surprise for Thorin? For the spring feast?” 

~~~~

They do have a fine time, researching and planning, Billa explaining to them the sort of shape she wanted the dress to be. Dori is thrilled that Ori had begun to realize the fun of designing something that wasn’t two dimensional or knitted, as fine an artist as he was, and delighted in sharing that skill with him. 

She models a dress for them, an old Shire formal dress that was _slightly_ like what she wanted, apparently the neckline wasn’t quite right and she wanted it to be squarer, and a bit lower, since she’d worn the dress as a much younger lass, and showing too much of her bosom was not the done thing at such a young age. Dori is a bit scandalized at how open and tight the neckline and arms and back would be. At least the skirt will be a proper length. That much bosom _and_ as much bare leg as showed in Shire dresses would truly start a scandal. 

Dwarrowdams had no trouble showing off their bosoms and necks, especially on feast days, but this was tight all the way to the waist. Very tight to the waist, and hers was smaller than any female in the mountain. In fact, it seemed even a little smaller than it actually _was_ and her bosom seemed to have…. 

“My queen,” he gulps when he realizes. “Will this dress require specialized….” 

“Queen is not my name,” she warns. “And yes, I’m wearing a corset, and it’s taking a bit of getting used to after so long. No worries, my dear. I see a seamstress that has been quite fascinated with the ones I brought from hom-from the Shire.” 

“Oh my gracious,” he says again. “It’s going to cause a scandal.” 

“I think Billa and the dress are going to look beautiful,” Ori says stoutly. And I’m starting to see exactly what you mean, Billa.” 

“I do admit it might be a _good_ sort of scandal….” Dori admits 

“I bet you that dwarrowdams will be lining up to have a dress like it,” Ori says slowly. “The fabric and the design….something fresh and new and green for spring.” 

“Hmmm,” Dori murmurs, thinking they might make a less elaborate fabric design - no one would wear exactly same dress as the queen, not while he had breath in him - but the same sort of motif. “It’s so unlike what we’re used to….I think I’ll take that bet.” 

“And my cut? ” Billa asks airily, swaying to the table to pour them all some tea. Dori averts his eyes. The dress quite emphasizes her feminine grace, not to mention her feminine everything else. He kicks Ori under the table, as his mouth is hanging open. Goggling like they are green lads of 50 and have just discovered breasts, and Ori prefers _males._ Thorin is going to swallow his tongue. Half the hall is going to swallow their tongues and the other half will be wagging theirs. 

“I do think I should have a cut of the bet,” Billa says again, smiling into her teacup. “My idea, after all.” 

“Yes, quite right,” Dori replies, still a little dazed. “Wait, do we all agree we think this will start a trend?” 

“Yes…” Billa says slowly as Ori nods. 

“Then what’s the bet?” 

“Oh,” Billa starts to giggle. They all have a good laugh and Billa pours a second round of tea. 

“You should wear your hair up off your neck,” Ori says, in the familiar tone that means he is drawing, designing something in his mind. “And really simple jewels. Pearl earrings. A very simple necklace. Perhaps a choker.” 

Billa puts her cup down with a decisive click. “I think we’ve reached the point in this project that I turn it over to my craft masters. So, my dears, I put it in your hands. I would like to see the fabric when it’s made, maybe get a little sample to show Fila so the corset will coordinate. And if you’d be so kind as show her the final design.” 

“You don’t want to see it?” Ori was shocked. 

She tilts her head to the side. “I think you both know what I want. And I trust you, Ori, not to let Dori back off the design of the dress. And I trust you, Dori, to make sure the fabric you and Ori come up with will be created to work with the design.” She shrugged elegantly and Dori struggled to keep his eyes on hers. “Of course I’ll stand for fittings of the muslin. But I think I quite like the idea of a surprise.” 

~~~~

Thorin, meanwhile, has caught wind of their little conferences tucked away in Dori’s tea shop and Billa’s quarters, and is bristling with curiosity, and corners the two of them as the tea shop is closing one night. Everyone is so flustered to have the king, glowering majestically, right there, that they clear out, leaving coins heaped on the counter. Dori sighs. Gossip will be flying. 

“It’s a surprise for you,” Ori says bravely. “I think, your majesty, you’ll be quite pleasantly surprised and should, um. Keep your nose out of it.” 

Dori claps a hand over his eyes. Of all the times to sass. 

Thorin’s eyebrows shoot up. “Master Ori, your seriousness makes your case, as do the bluntness of your words. Just...it’s something for the spring feast? Something for her?”

“Yes,” Dori says grudgingly. Thorin’s worked his information network well. He wonders if Nori is in on it. 

“A dress.” 

Dori sighs. “Yes.” 

Thorin nods thoughtfully, his eyes cast down. “Is there not something I may add to the surprise? Something for her?” he asks, his voice slightly gruff and shy.

Ori beams. “As a matter of fact,” he says, drawing out a sketch from the back of his book. “You can. This would be more appropriate coming from you.”

Dori looks at his brother and then at Thorin, who was looking over Ori’s sketch with an impressed, pleased smile. 

“Thank you,” he says simply, and leans forward to shyly butt foreheads with each of them, a never-before-offered gesture of affection, and sweeps out of the shop. 

“So romantic,” Dori breathes, hand over his heart. “Those two. She wants to do something to please him, he wants to do something to please her…” He sighs. 

“I hope one day somebody I can love somebody like that.” 

“Ori,” heart full of affection, he puts his hand on his little brother’s neck and draws him in to press their foreheads together. “You will. And somebody will love you like that. How could they not?” 

~~~~ 

Billa’s eyes fill with tears when they bring a length of fabric to her, and for a split second, Dori panics, then she’s in his arms to give him the tightest hug her little frame can muster, then flies to Ori to do the same. She gathers it up and holds it over her heart to cry some more. Then she spreads it out to go over every inch, careful not to get her tears on it. 

“My door,” she cries. “My beautiful door! Oh, the color is perfect! 

“Yes,” Dori says softly. “Master Gamgee sent us a paint sample so we could match it. It also has the advantage of being quite flattering your complexion and bringing out the bit of red in your hair.” 

Billa pets it. “And the flowers, perfect, too." She puts it down to fumble for a handkerchief. 

“You had roses, red ones and white ones embroidered on cushions in your house,” Ori adds. “And you had that red jacket. We put that dark red in there for that.” 

She sniffs. “Roses my father gave my mother, and she embroidered them so she could have them year ‘round. And that was my father’s jacket. And all these other flowers…so many...you two.” She flaps her handkerchief at them. 

“You picked them with us,” Ori smiles fondly. 

“We picked about a hundred different flowers Ori, but all these mean…they say...they say...” She puts her hand to her heart and struggles with her breathing.

And that’s when Dori starts to cry, too, because he and Ori had poured over the notes and dug through book after book of Elven lore and Ori's notes on the royal courtship. Finally, in desperation, the only other flower language expert on the mountain being the king himself, they sent a raven to Billa’s old gardener Hamfast Gamgee, who Ori had befriended when he went with the group to fetch Billa’s things, to beg for help. 

“Oh, then we got it right. I'm so glad, so glad. We’d never really thought of using cloth to communicate something so complex...” 

“Dwarrow’d use gems,” Ori said softly. “And precious metals.” 

“I know,” Billa beams, radiant, hand clutched around one of her marriage braids. “I know, you darlings. It will be like I’m wearing a marriage wreath that never fades. It will be like I _am_ a marriage wreath.” 

“Oh, stop,” Dori begs her. “I go all blotchy when I cry.” 

“I do, too,” Billa laughs through her tears. “My nose gets like a tomato.” 

“I think you look beautiful,” Ori says, staunch as ever, and blows his nose so loudly everyone laughs. 

~~~~

Each flower says something of love and happiness, wholeness and contentment, home and marriage and passion. The most romantic piece of fabric the guild has ever made, for an extremely romantic dress. And oh, they had fussed about the difficult, curvy design elements, so different from anything they’d made before. 

After listening to the fussing, Ori, silently standing by Dori’s elbow had calmly explained that this fabric was going to be used for a love-gift to the king, from the queen, a surprise for the spring feast, and that the flowers were important messages in Shire flower lore. He told them that she had _taught_ the king her flower lore, as he had taught her their gem lore during their courtship, as was proper, and pointed to each flower to explain what they meant. Dwarrow always love a good story, and there is a long history of weaving knots and motifs for safety, for love, in their own designs, but far, far more abstract.

Dori watched many a guild member’s gaze soften, and heard more than one dreamy sigh. People rarely grumbled when a dwarf discovered their One, but there had been shock that their king had found one not of their race. Balin had very firmly reminded those he could that the legends say Durin himself wandered the world before he found a wife, and no one really knew who or what she was, and let the gossip take care of as much of it as it could. 

Billa had won many people over in the course of the last few years, but there were a few grumblers, or worse, and the worse weren’t welcome in Erebor for long. (Not with Dwalin the captain of the King’s Guard and Nori the spymaster around.) 

Apparently to know that their queen wanted to send this sort of message about her love for her home and husband _to_ her husband won a few hearts and the day. When Ori finished speaking, bids to make the fabric began flying fast and furious. Ori gave him a mild, professional smile, but his eyes were gleaming with triumph. Dori was hard pressed not to scoop up his jewel of a brother and hug the stuffing out of him for being so confident and taking such initiative and leadership. 

“I call on your service, Craft Master Dori, to handle the rest,” he said softly. 

“And I thank you, Master Ori, for being a master at so many things.” Ori’s eyes gleamed even more brightly. 

Dori had overseen the choice of every thread, the finest silk, the richest colors, and had sworn the entire guild, the _entire guild_ to secrecy until the day of the feast, and then they were encouraged to tell the story. They could certainly say they were making something special for the feast day for the queen, something she commissioned as a surprise for the king, but no more. He encouraged them to get the other craft guilds in on the secret, but to keep _which_ guild was working on it vague. And then he quietly commissioned a few simpler designs, in case it became popular.

~~~~. 

When the time comes, he makes the dress himself, and blushes himself silly during the fitting of the muslin. Billa gives him a glass of wine, after. A very large glass of wine. 

He blushes when he takes the muslin to Fila, Billa’s corset maker, and she coos and blushes as well over the daring design. Nori blushes a bit over Fila. And he blushes when he chooses how to cut the fabric and show off flowers here and there in the design of the dress, knowing the stylized rose here symbolized pure love, and that red ones he put on her arms spoke of passion, (arms to wrap around her king, embrace her people) and the queen's lace on the small of her back means delicate femininity, not that Billa was delicate, but more the king loves to show off his queen with his hand just there. And they know for certain it was in Thorin's proposal bouquet. Dori whispers their meanings while he shapes and stitches. 

He realizes he is making, that they all are making, a love gift for their king and queen, each one that has the secret of it, the story, the meaning, each one who has spun thread or woven fabric, each has poured love into it, too. The sweetness of the idea, and the enormity of the task on him sends Dori’s hands to shaking, and he has to stop himself, make a cup of tea, then go for a bit of a walk to settle his nerves. 

Thorin sends him a message, requesting a sample of the colors of the dress, perhaps a few threads. He makes it very clear he does not want to see the design of the cloth, apparently having gotten wind (again) from someone that the weaver’s guild is working on something special. 

Several days later, the king asks him to his workshop and hands him several emeralds and rubies, the smallest the size of the first joint of his thumb, and asks to let him know the one that matches the dress the best. And then Thorin draws out a string of stunning pearls, each the size of Dori’s thumbnail. So rare in Erebor, these sea-gems, and these, so large and fine, are worth a fortune. Several fortunes. Dori can hardly speak they are so beautiful. Then Thorin draws out another strand of pearls, a slightly different shade, less moon white, more cream, just as large and perfect for Billa’s complexion and the dress. 

“Which do you think would fit the dress?” he asks. “Perhaps you should take them with the stones and match them.” 

“I don’t have to, my king,” he says softly, laying a reverent finger on one smooth, creamy pearl. “But I will take these,” he hefts the small pouch of rubies and emeralds “And be right back.” 

The lines beside the king’s eyes crinkle in a smile. “Thank you, Dori. And is there a way you could find to measure her neck for me? I’d like to make it close fitting.” 

“I will if I can, but you might consider making it adjustable, with perhaps some flourish on the end? The back of the dress will also show off a bit of her upper back, about in line with her shoulder blades.

“ _Also_ show off?” Thorin asks mildly, with every appearance of making idle conversation. 

“Oh, no you don’t,” Dori says mock-sternly, shaking a finger, and scuttles off to the music of his king's laughter. 

He chooses a fat square ruby to match deepest red in the dress, and hurries back to Thorin’s workshop. Thorin is working on a mold for a delicate clasp in the shape of a rose. A small ingot of metal sits beside him. 

“Is that mithril?” Dori whispers. Thorin nods, a gleam in his eye. 

“Will match her circlet, if she wishes to wear them together,” he says softly. “Did you find a stone that suited?” 

“This one,” he draws the ruby out of the pouch and sets it before his king. 

“Good. That one was my favorite.” They exchange a grin. “No hope in prying any secrets out of you?” 

“Hmmm,” Dori says thoughtfully, a bubble of fondness for his king and one of impertinence rising and joining. “I think Billa Baggins fancies you.” 

Thorin laughs. There was a time Dori never thought to see a day that Thorin Oakenshield laughed easily. Thorin takes out the threads Dori has sent him. 

“Could you tell me, perhaps, what shade of coat and tunic should I ask my tailor to make?”

“Aren’t you ordering your clothes a little late, my king?” 

“I wanted to make sure my tailor had enough time to finish my wife’s gown.” 

“Mmmhmm. Well, how about you trust me to select something that will compliment? Shall we meet in a week?” 

Thorin inclines his head. “Very well.” 

Dori stops by the tea shop for a quiet cup and a bit of cake. He hears murmurs of a love gift the queen has commissioned for the king’s pleasure at the spring feast. Speculations are flying. He smiles into his cup. 

~~~ 

The day comes for Billa to see the full dress for the first time, and Dori’s hands shake again. He and Ori bring it to her in a chest they commissioned themselves, warm cedar wood with a small wreath of the flowers from the dress carved into the lid. Dwalin meets them at the door to the royal chambers. They eye him curiously. Ori blushes. The top of Dwalin’s head turns red. 

“Thorin caught wind that she’d be seeing the whatever today,” he rumbles. 

Dori raises his eyebrows. Dwalin rolls his eyes. “I’m to make sure he doesn’t disturb you.” Dori wishes he could raise his eyebrows higher. Ori shakes his head. “So romantic,” he murmurs. Dwalin’s ears turn red. Dori just can’t think about this right now. 

“Well, thank you very much, Captain Dwalin, I’m sure her majesty will be very pleased to know we won’t be disturbed,” Dori says as calmly as he can, about to present the dress and _something going on with his baby brother and the captain of the Kings Guard._

“Might be pleased by this as well,” he says, pulling out a small, flat box, cedar wood to match the box the dress is in (that’s it, Nori _has_ to be his information source) with a rose carved atop it. 

Ori swallows hard. “You think I might open it? Take a peek? I made the initial design.” 

“Did you now?” Dwalin purrs. “I think the king means for her to see it first.” 

“Well, that’s all right. At least I’ve seen the….whatever,” he says. They stare at one another, and Dori rolls his eyes and knocks on the queen’s door. 

~~~~

Billa presses her hands to her cheeks when she sees the box, a sheen of tears in her eyes. 

“Oh my dears, this is lovely.” 

“Bifur and Bofur,” Ori tells her. 

“The darlings. You know,” she says, voice shaking. “It has come to my attention that all of Erebor is murmuring about my little surprise.” 

“Really?” Ori says thoughtfully, the perfect imitation of Balin, and Billa giggles. 

“It’s been a delight, Billa, really it has. Everyone has been so excited to help, and been sworn to secrecy. Thorin knows there _is_ a surprise, but not what," he tells her a pebble of a lie. "Ori told them the story of the flowers and you teaching Thorin about them.” 

“Oh, they must think we’re the silliest things ever. Mercy, such a to do! I’m just a simple hobbit.” 

“You haven’t been a simple hobbit for quite a long time,” Ori says. Billa reaches out and presses his hand fondly. 

Dori tuts, “Silly? Quite the opposite. It's sparked mountain wide coos over the romance of it all. It’s given everyone something to gossip and puzzle over during these last winter months.” Honestly, he had separate a weaver and a jeweler, each bellowing about which monarch loved the other more. 

“Spring takes so long to come here,” Billa says, caressing the flowers on the box. “I was right. I’ve looked forward to this so. I can’t thank you two enough.” She takes a deep breath. “And now I think I should try it on.” 

It might be one of Dori’s finest works, certainly challenging in needing the utmost precision and in making such a close fitting garment for a female. When Billa comes out, both of them suck in a breath of awe. She looks glorious, every inch a queen, and _clearly_ every inch an exotic female in an exotic dress. 

“You’ll never make it to the feast,” Ori says, and claps his hand over his mouth, mortified. Billa bursts out laughing and puts her hand to her mouth as well. 

“Oh, dear I’d never thought of that. That has- ahem - might be a problem.” 

“How about you meet him there?” Dori says slowly. 

“So everyone can see the surprise at once?” 

“And ensuring they actually get to see the surprise,” Ori adds, turning his blunder into an asset. Clever lad. 

“That’s a good idea.” Billa presses both hands to her cheeks again. “It’s so beautiful, both of you. Everything I ever wanted and more.” She pets one sleeve. “Will...will you both come to escort me?” 

“Not me” Ori says thoughtfully. “I want to be positioned just right so I can see the king’s face to put in the histories.” 

“Truly?” 

“It will be a very memorable entrance,” he says, stalwart as ever. “And I promised Hamfast a sketch.” 

“Dori?” Billa asks shyly. 

“Of course I will, my dear.” 

Billa bites her lip, looking young and happy and so in love. “I feel like I’m getting married all over again,” she says and bounces on her toes. 

Dori wonders if this is what it feels like to have a daughter, a sister, preparing to go to her spouse's hall. It’s a completely lovely feeling. 

“Oh,” he says, blinking himself out of reverie. “Thorin sent this.” He holds out the box to her. Billa looks at it thoughtfully. 

“Feast day,” she whispers. “Keep it until then.” 

“I don’t dare,” he replies. “Think you can keep it here? It’s better guarded.” 

“Actually, we do have a little safe for the crown and such,” she agrees. “So,” she says, bouncing again. “Four days.” 

“Oh, Aule, I’ve got to go finish Thorin’s clothes.” 

~~~

“I peeked at the necklace yesterday,” Billa says when she answers the door on feast day. She touches it, stroking the ruby pendant that rests just below the hollow of her throat. “Just in case it might make me cry.” 

“And?” 

She nods, a rueful, radiant smile on her lips. “Ready?”

“I’m supposed to be asking you that, and no, I want to fuss over you a bit,” he waves her over by the tall thin windows that line the wall of their rooms. “Go on, let’s have a look at you.” 

She blushes and glides to the window, then turns for his inspection. 

He wasn’t sure she could have looked more lovely than the day she tried on her dress, but the simple necklace and earrings are just the right touch, making the neckline seem a tad less bare. And Thorin had put a beautiful little ruby drop on the tail end of her necklace, which seems to invite the viewer to gaze at the craftsmanship of jewels and dress, and more importantly, Billa's tiny waist. Her hair is piled high on her head just as simply as her jewels, her marriage braids swept up beside either ear, disappearing into the elegant design. 

“My dear, I don’t think you could look any more lovely.” Strange that he's become used to smooth cheeks or bearded ones as equally beautiful, just differently so. 

She presses her hands to her cheeks. “If you make me cry I’ll smack you, Dori, I will.” 

“I certainly think there will be several weeping in envy, and Thorin will be weeping he has to stay until the meal is over.” He offers his arm. “Come, my queen.” 

“Not my name….” she murmurs, sing-song. 

“Can’t help it when you look like one, my dear.” 

~~~

There’s an audible gasp when they enter the hall, and Billa grips his arm tight. A scrape of a chair against stone, and Thorin is nearly leaping down the stairs of the dais the head table rests on, eyes blazing hot and only for his wife. He slows as he reaches them, recovering a bit of majesty, staring at the dress and her in the dress, and Dori’s throat goes tight when Thorin begins to comprehend the messages woven in the fabric. His eyes fly to her face again, his gaze so full of love that it takes Dori’s breath. Thorin inclines his head graciously when Dori puts her hand in his, his gaze joyful, grateful.

“Thank you,” he whispers simply, his voice hoarse with emotion, and then his eyes are all for Billa again as he leads her to the table. He turns at the top to address the hall. “People of...no. My friends, for today, I feel a friendship, a kinship with you as I have never felt, a kinship which has grown in this place beyond my wildest hopes throughout Erebor. Today we celebrate the return of spring, which even within the shelter of our mountain, is a time of new life, of rekindling earth and people alike after the long cold.” 

He grins, turning to Billa, who blushes, then blushes further when Thorin kisses her hand, and then her palm, his eyes on hers. Dori is long used to such affection between them, but there are a few gasps, mostly among the latest (late, years late) batch of stragglers that are still trying to match up a laughing king with the stern, unsmiling Thorin they knew or heard of before. Thorin turns to speak again, still holding her hand. 

“It seems, though, my friends, though this is the first day of spring, the full beauty of a summer garden has found us today, garlanded with flowers of love, marriage, home, passion and contentment, and matched by jewels that speak of rare treasure, vitality, wisdom, and lifting of the spirit. All of these things are my queen, my wife, to me, and it is all of these things that I wish for each of you in the coming season, for _every_ season." 

"You have my most sincere thanks for this surprise. I know many of you had a hand in it, and _all_ helped keep it a surprise for me. It makes this gift, this day all the more precious. I am a most, most fortunate dwarf to be surrounded by such friends. And now,” he grins, wide and wolfish. “I should like to thank the one who began the whole conspiracy.” With that, he kisses Billa sweetly, then changes his mind and bends her over his arm to kiss her quite thoroughly as the hall erupts in whoops of glee. 

~~~

The feast begins on that joyful note, and continues in the same vein. Dori finds the work of he last few weeks completing feast day clothes is catching up to him, and he’s content to only murmur snatches of conversation with his brothers, and the little pocket of the company not at the head table that surrounds him. He and Ori have been treated to mighty slaps on the back and even a few headbutts of affection and congratulation. 

He sighs contentedly around a mouthful of excellent lamb and watches his king and queen. They look so well together, and Dori congratulates himself on the right choice for Thorin's feast clothes, a surcoat and trousers many shades deeper green than her gown and deep red tunic, just the color of the ruby gracing Billa's throat. Thorin only has eyes for his wife, and those eyes seem to be having a difficult time remaining chastely on her face, with so much skin, and female curves so emphatically clothed. A server offers her a dish of something, Billa turns to help herself, and Dori has to bite back a snort of laughter at Thorin’s expression. Apparently, using the silver serving pieces is doing something very interesting to her cleavage. The king looks away, and Dori catches a tell-tale sign of red at the rim of his ear peeking through his hair, the only place visible that Thorin blushes. 

The king helps her plate the rest of the meal, or feeds her off his, which occasionally results in further subtle flusterment. Billa catches Dori’s eye and shoots him a triumphant, grateful look and Dori has to bury his face in his goblet. A moment later, Billa pours herself, then Thorin, a goblet of water, and Thorin nearly cuts his own finger instead of his lamb.

Dori gets the giggles at that, and lists into a confused Ori, who is apparently having his own flusterment problems watching Dwalin at the head table, who has appeared at the feast in the deep Durin blue, dressed for once like the noble he is, and actually dressed his hair. Dori forgets how big Dwalin is sometimes across the shoulders, always thinking it's the enormous firs he keeps strapped to his chest. Honestly, he's not sure how the dwarf walks through doors. Dwalin is staring right back at his little brother, a soft look in his eyes. Dori’s going to have to think about that sometime, but not right now. He does at admit this project with his baby broth- no, his _brother_ has shown him to be a dwarf in full, and not so much the lad or baby he thought. 

Back at the king’s table, Billa throws back her head and laughs, the ruby at her throat flashing in the torchlight, her skin glowing like her pearls, and the king reaches for her hand and leans forward to catch her mouth with his. 

“A dozen orders by morning,” Bofur says wisely, nodding at the happy couple. 

“Two,” Ori replies instantly. They make a bet. 

“Gloin’s already ordered the first,” Dori says peacefully. 

“Iglishmêk from the head table?” 

“Mmmhmm. Wants blue for his wife.” 

~~~ 

In fact, it’s three dozen by next morning and Dori and Ori pull out the next batch of fabric designs they’d created, because Dori only ordered enough cloth for two dozen. The weaver’s guild is beside themselves with nerves and joy, so many orders, so many curvy, exotic designs. Dori has to hire a whole team of seamstresses and tailors, starting with setting up a partnership with Billa’s corset maker.

Courtships and weddings crop up quickly after the introduction of the Queen’s Garden, as they’re calling it, and and starting ten months after the feast, more babes are born in Erebor than have been in generations, many of them girls. One of them is a little princess. A new wave of babes are born after the first batch of weddings, and also have a larger than usual number of girls. 

Queen's Garden dresses - most often in shades of green - become the rage for wedding dresses, citing their good luck, the love woven into them and made with love by seemingly half the mountain, the other half whispering the story of the original dress, and the king’s wish and blessing to all, for every season. No one is quite sure which spurs the fashion more, Billa’s beauty and sweet gesture, or Thorin’s blessing and obvious, adoring reaction. 

Dori smiles as he stares at the tidy, beautiful, auburn braids of Fila, the partner he’s become so very fond of, and thinks how wonderful it is to live in a place where love is in fashion. 

He decides to invite her to tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made up what some of the flowers were, yo. That fabric design's a weet bit fantastical. And I can't believe I made that awful pun at the end, but my husband is so proud.
> 
> Those of you looking for more Pearl, the rewrite: I'm sorry, I know it's taking forever, but this next chapter is kicking my ass, both in content and personal anxiety. Remember kids: writing what you know sometimes kicks you in the teeth, or ass. Tass. It'll be done when it's done, I'm hoping soon. My plan is to get them at least TO Mirkwood by the time the movie comes out. I know I'm going to get jossed all to hell at Beorn's but I'd like to see a little of the Thranduil/Thorin interaction before I do all that bit.
> 
> There's TONS of new pretties to play with in the meantime. Go look. TONS.


	2. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bit of headcanon that popped into my head after I posted.

One day someone comes in asking to order a Queen's Garden....."of _Delights_ " for his...whatever, no wife would put up with that sort of crudity, and made the universal symbol for large breasts in front of his chest. Dori calmly walks to his newly carved door - an inset wreath of now famous flowers picked out in moonstones and rubies on malachite gracing it - picked the dwarf right off his feet and threw him into the street. 

Fila's eyebrows rise. "You know that's what's been selling the dress, don't you? At least to some." 

Dori sniffs. "I choose to believe that it was the king's reaction and blessing, as well as how lovely Billa looked, and the whole story of the dress." 

"And the babes."

"Maybe." Dori shuffles one foot on the floor. 

"Honestly, Dori, you'd make the sweetest husband and father," she says fondly. "Though I suppose you already did raise your brothers. You're probably enjoying the peace and quiet at home." 

"Hmm," he says, running his hands over some bolts of fabric so she won't see his blush. He can't help remember that moment when he wondered that day, about to take Billa through the halls of Erebor to meet her husband in the feast hall, all nerves and pride and happiness for her, if that was like what having a daughter felt like. And he can't help think how lovely it is not to work alone in his shop, and that his favorite days are when it's just the two of them, here downstairs or up in workroom. 

"I can honestly say I never thought to have a family of my very own, until this last year, or fall in love." 

"What changed? And who have you met? We've been at the shop nearly non-stop for months." 

He smiles. "Have I ever taken you to my tea shop?" 

"No," she drawls, a friendly, confused frown on her face. "We've barely had time to stumble to the corner to grab a pasty from Fregar between clients." 

"We should do better about taking breaks. Would you do me the honor of joining me there for tea, say, tomorrow?" 

She looks at him carefully. "Are you seeking to further our partnership?" Dori looks equally carefully at her dear beautiful face, for signs of withdrawal or temper. He sees her quickened breath and her pleased dusky rose blush high on her cheekbones. The longer he looks, the more she blushes, and when she ducks her head shyly, his heart soars. 

"No, Fila," he says softly, coming to take her hand and kiss the back, his eyes on hers. "I am seeking to court you, if you'll have me." 

"If you hadn't asked by Durin's Day, I was going to ask you myself," she says, her blush deepening, and oh, Aule, he wonders how long it's proper to wait until he can kiss her. He's never needed to know that before. He's never needed to know how to kiss someone before. 

"Fila," he murmurs. "I've never courted anyone before. You were right about raising my brothers. I didn't take much time for myself." 

"Dear one," she says. "Neither have I. We shall be patient with one another. I hear it's rather recommended." 

"I bow to your wisdom," he says, and kisses the back of her warm, strong hand, then impulsively turns it, and presses a kiss to her palm while holding her gaze. It trembles against his mouth. 

"You stole that gesture from the king," she teases softy, her eyes shining. 

"Brother Nori has always said one should steal from the best," he says primly, sitting beside her and folding her hand over his heart. "I think that was a good one to start with."


End file.
